


Remember, Remember the Fifth of November (The Family Business Remix)

by lls_mutant



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Backstory, Family, Gen, Terrorism, uncle-nephew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 12:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lls_mutant/pseuds/lls_mutant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom has always been willing to give all he has for Sagittaron.  He wasn't the only one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remember, Remember the Fifth of November (The Family Business Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Blood Lines](https://archiveofourown.org/works/76369) by [puszysty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/puszysty/pseuds/puszysty). 



Molly and Tom Zarek had grown up in what the Colonial government called a Sagittaron mining settlement, but was really the remnants of a forced labor camp. The guards were gone and the watchtower had been dismantled, but the people still lived in shacks and coiled barbed wire still surrounded the homes. All around them, people told themselves that this was the burden the Gods had given them to bear, and they would be rewarded in the afterlife. Both Tom and Molly thought that was bullshit.

"Why do we even stay here?" Tom asked their parents once after the police had broken up a protest. The protest had been peaceful, yet the force that had been used was enough to kill seven people and injure at least twenty more. "Why don't we just go to one of the other Colonies?"

"Because the other Colonies don't like Sagittarons," Molly said. "Right, Mom?"

"They don't." Their mother's shoulders straightened into a taut line. "But that's not why we don't leave. We don't leave because Sagittaron is _ours_ , and we should not have to leave. Leaving means giving in. Leaving is surrendering."

"But Sagittarons don't fight!" Molly protested. "They can't!"

"Only those who interpret the Scrolls that way don't and can't, as is their right," their father said. "The rest of us… it's on us to fight even harder. Because if one Sagittaron does not have his freedom simply because he is Sagittaron, none of us do."

Tom found himself turning the words over in his head late that night. And in school the next day, and on a sunny afternoon a month later. His parents' words struck something deep inside him, kindling the spark that would one day become an all-consuming blaze. 

Their parents had died seven years later, when Tom was seventeen and Molly was twenty-one, in a rally where the police had opened fire. But they'd left the legacy that their children did not have to accept the status quo, and while the government could take your life, perhaps it was worth giving if it brought about a change. It was a legacy that stayed with both children all their adult lives.

*** 

Molly met John Hoshi at yet another demonstration, and according to them, it was love at first sight. He was a nice man, average looking and kind, and completely devoted to both Molly and Sagittaron. Tom liked him immediately. 

John worked in a government office, doing low-level work in the Ministry of Agriculture. Molly had a job in the Bureau of Education. Molly moved out of the mining sector of Edessa and into the government area, although Tom stayed in the mine. The house that Molly and John bought was small and run-down, but it was open and warm and Tom found himself there frequently.

There were late nights, spent talking about how to change the world, the three of them at the table making plans and laughing. The world seemed so open and warm in that kitchen, and it was the happiest he'd been since he was a young child. It made Tom believe that they could do anything. 

***

"What did you want to see me about?" Tom asked, coming into the kitchen. "And where's John?"

"John's not here." Molly waved her hand, and Tom noticed she was clutching a tissue. Her eyes were rimmed red and her nose was swollen. 

"He didn't leave, did he?" Tom had a hard time believing that.

"Oh. No. It's nothing like that." Molly threw the tissue towards a wastebasket angrily. "I'm pregnant."

"Oh." Tom sat down heavily at the battered table. "Oh."

"Right. Oh." Molly snatched another tissue from the box. "I didn't want this!" She blew her nose, hard. "Not here. Not on Sagittaron. A kid deserves better than this."

Tom had heard it a million times before. "Do you want me to go with you?" he asked. "To a doctor?"

Molly shook her head. "I'm not getting an abortion."

"But you don't have to-" Tom began, but cut off when Molly glared at him. He tried again. "Just because Sagittarons believe that…." Molly's glare intensified, and Tom, normally determined to speak his piece, trailed off.

"I'm not getting an abortion." Molly's voice was like steel. "I'm having this baby. That doesn't mean I'm happy about it right now."

Tom frantically cast around for something he could say that wouldn't get him killed. "Okay."

"I just wanted you to know." Molly's mouth twisted into a smile. "You're going to be an uncle. And I'm going to be-" She buried her head in her arms on the table and cried.

Tom had never felt so helpless as he patted his sister's shoulder.

***

A baby. Tom thought about that as he headed back home, the next day at work, and sporadically then on out. His sister was having a baby.

He understood her distress completely. Sagittaron was no place for kids. The conditions, the violence, the poverty… his own place was a little corner apartment, one room and a bathroom. A rickety bed, a table, a dresser, and a desk. A small gas stove for cooking. Not much else. It wasn't bad for him- he didn't really care- but there was a family that lived next door.

True, John and Molly lived in a nicer section of town. Their house was small and run-down, but it was better than a shack and furnished better than Tom's place was. It had a proper kitchen and living room and bathroom, as well as two bedrooms. There was a little garden out front and a microscopic yard in back. It was nice, but it still wasn't what it could be. There was no barbed wire, not like the settlement they'd grown up in, but there were guards patrolling and the government was pressing down on their lives.

The Cylon War had been over for five years now, but the effects still lingered. Sagittaron had required a lot of military help during the war- the Cylons had hit hard, and given the religious beliefs of a large percentage of the population, there had been no planet-based force, no battlestar built for the Fleet. The Colonial government had helped out, but at a price. The government had imposed heavy taxes on Sagittaron, and apparently realizing that the people weren't going to fight back, increased them. Sagittaron had always been viewed as a backward Colony, full of religious fanatics and people to be spit on. But now it had become a Colony of ingrates, people who couldn't lift a finger to save themselves and had to be punished for that at all costs.

Tom almost wanted the Cylons back.

He tried to imagine what life would be like for John and Molly's child. Growing up like he and Molly had, in a settlement with barbed wire around it and sirens going off at any hour of the day or night? Identification papers, ration cards, labor camps… would that be this child's future? It seemed likely as the Colonies' grip on Sagittaron tightened. No, Tom could understand Molly's reluctance. 

But he also had to admit he was a little excited himself.

***

"Well, this is him. Do you want to hold him?"

Tom had never been afraid of much in his life, but he eyed the blanket-wrapped bundle warily. "I might drop him."

Molly laughed and patted her bed. "You won't. Come on. I'll help you."

He sat down on the bed. It creaked, but he came to rest sitting by his sister's feet. Molly, wearing a faded robe and her hair still a mess, leaned forward and put the baby in Tom's arms. He froze in terror for a moment, but then nothing happened and he began to relax.

"See? It's easy."

"Easy. Right." Tom looked down at the baby. He was awake, but he didn't seem distressed at being passed. "I didn't know he'd have blue eyes."

"I didn't, either. One of women told me that all babies are born with light eyes. They're likely to change in a few months." 

"Oh." Tom continued to study his nephew. He didn't see a lot of distinguishing features- the kid looked like a baby. But something swelled in him. There was a connection there, something Tom hadn't expected.

"Hey, John," he said softly.

Molly cleared his throat. "His name's not John."

"Really?" Tom looked up in surprise. "You two have been so traditional about so many things I just thought you'd name him after John."

Molly glared at him. "Just because we used a midwife doesn't mean we're adhering to every tradition. Having two Johns in the house is too confusing."

"So what did you name him?"

"I named him after Dad." Molly leaned forward and twitching the blanket aside needlessly, her fingers tender in the caress. "Louis."

"Good name." Tom wasn't going to admit that that made him tear up. He looked down at the baby, who was still lying peacefully in his arms. A new life, and a promise of a bright future. Suddenly, everything seemed a little more important, a little more urgent. Because this child deserved that bright future, and Tom wanted to be able to give it to him.

***

"Zarek!"

Tom looked up from his deskwork to see Millers, the mine foreman striding into his tiny office. "What is it?"

Millers sat down across from him. "Listen, I just got word from Gravers up in Patras. The Colonial government is taking another fifteen percent of our output."

"What?" Tom wiped his face. "You're kidding. For what?"

"For themselves." Millers shrugged, then spat on the ground. 

Tom leaned back in his chair. "They paying us for this?" 

"What do you think?"

"You're short on payrolls anyway!"

"You know I know it." Millers' face turned grave. "Listen, Tom. We're going to come up with something, but it's gonna take a bit. Can you talk to the union? Get them to understand that this isn't our idea?"

"Are you kidding me?" Tom stared at him, mouth hanging open. He shut it hastily. "You want me to get the miners to swallow the idea that they're not getting paid this month?"

"No. Just the idea that it's the Colonial government's fault, not ours."

"They aren't going to see a difference."

"Tom, look. I know what's going to happen, and we can't have that. We can't have a work stoppage."

"Why not?" The idea flared in Tom. "What if it was an entire work stoppage? What if the union and the management joined forces?"

Millers frowned. "That could bring down and awful lot of trouble."

"How else is anything going to change?"

Millers sighed and wiped his face again. "I'll talk to the management, Tom, but they're not going to like it."

"I'll talk to the union if you do."

"All right."

***

"Strike!" The word reverberated through the air. "Strike! Strike! Strike! Strike!"

Tom's blood thrummed with each shout, the excitement rising higher and higher. He stood on a platform beside Millers, watching the workers below them stir to passion. _Strike._ They'd show the Colonial government. This was Sagittaron, and Sagittaron had their own way of fighting.

***

The euphoria was still coursing through him as he made his way to John and Molly's house across town, but it came up against a hard stop when he saw the house. John and Molly were both outside, scrubbing at red words spray-painted across the front. Louis, almost one, toddled clumsily across the grass. Tom scooped him up absently, still staring at the house.

"What the frak?"

"Oh, Tom." Molly turned, her face lit up with relief as she pushed a lank strand of hair behind her ear. "Can you take this over? I need to finish the wash I was doing inside. I've got one more clean diaper and that's it." 

"Sure." Tom set the baby down and picked up a scrub brush. "What's this all about? 'Heretics'?" It was a serious accusation on Sagittaron.

Molly scowled. "Oh, don't mind that. Just some close-minded, ignorant…. Ugh." She rolled her eyes. "John can tell you about it. It makes me too mad to talk about." She disappeared inside the house.

Tom turned to John, confused. John gestured with his head to the scrubbing, and Tom set to work. The first layer came off easily, but the paint was pretty deeply ingrained into the wood. "What happened?"

"I'm not completely sure," John admitted. "But the best we can figure is that someone worked out that we saw a doctor rather than a faith healer."

"For Louis?" Tom was pleased about that.

"For Molly. She was having trouble with postpartum depression, and she finally decided that she needed to see a doctor."

"Really? I had no idea." Tom blinked. "Is she better?"

"Oh, yes. The doctor gave her some antidepressants and they've done her a world of good." John shook his head. "I think of how she was suffering before she went, and the people who did this that would rather see her like that then get the medicine so she can have her life back…." He scrubbed harder, ferocity coloring his face. "I understand why she doesn't want to talk about it."

"I guess so." 

"But enough about that," John said. "I saw on the news that you've been busy."

Tom grinned. "Yes."

John smiled back at him, but his smile faded quickly. "Do you think it will work? It's just your mine on strike."

"We're trying to get others."

"If you don't, it's not going to work. You're not going to be able to withstand the pressure the Colonial government can put on you. Someone will fold."

"I've got to believe that we've got a chance at this."

John sighed. "Maybe. But without the other mines, probably not." His shoulders slumped. "Sagittarons as rule aren't fighters, Tom. They'll bring you dinners, help with your kids, carry a load for you, but fight?" He snorted and turned back to the scrubbing. "If they'd fight, they'd do that instead of leaving graffiti on a house."

"Look, John-"

"Tom, can we just… can we just finish this without talking about it?" John stepped back, looking at the house. "Frak it. I think I'm just going to get some new paint. The house needs it anyway. Can you watch Louis until I get back? Molly's right inside."

"Go ahead." The words were barely out of Tom's mouth before John was striding away, hands shoved in his pockets and shoulders tight. It belatedly occurred to him that John was a lot more upset about the vandalism than he was letting on. Tom studied the letters again. Most of the first layer had been scrubbed off, so he tossed his scrub brush in the bucket and sat down on the sagging porch. Louis wobbled over, falling forward and catching himself on Tom's knees. He grinned up at his uncle.

"Hey, squirt," Tom said, ruffling the kid's hair. "You're getting big. You talking yet?" Louis just kept grinning. "Can you say 'oppression'?" Tom asked him. No answer. "No? How about 'rise up against the government'? 'Freedom'? 'Revolution'?" Louis stared at him, then fell heavily to his diapered bottom. Tom chuckled and ruffled his hair again. "How about 'Tom'? Can I get that?" Louis ignored him, focusing instead on pulling himself back up to standing. Tom took his hands and helped him. "I promise you, kiddo. One day you're going to know all those words. I'll teach you, and you'll be able to shout them at the top of your lungs. I promise."

Louis just grinned.

***

Tom considered himself a realist. He thought he had a good grip on people, on how the world worked. After all, it was hard to be any sort of optimist when you'd grown up in what amounted to a labor camp and your parents had been gunned down by the police when you were seventeen. He was wrong.

He'd been so sure that the other mines would join in the strike. No, not every mine, but a few more. 

The mine held out for a week and a half. It was a glorious week and a half, union and management working shoulder-to-shoulder. Tom wrote letters and made phone and vid calls, pleading with other union representatives about joining in the strike. There was an enthusiastic response to his conversation, and very little action. And Tom knew that it wasn't complacency that spurred inaction, it was fear. Fear that he began to see in the faces of the workers at his own mine when the Colonial government decided to up the game.

Tom had expected riot police. He had not expected Colonial soldiers. But he prepared himself to stand strong, no matter what violence the Colonial government wanted to visit on them as a reprise. He would not yield, even if they put him up against the wall. It sounded over-dramatic, but it was true. In fact, when Tom first thought the words, it was like everything fell into place. If he died like that, he would be proud of himself. 

Not everyone thought that way, though. It was a matter of hours before the soldiers had Millers behind closed doors, and less than a day before Millers had capitulated. And just like that, it was no longer the united force of union and management against the Colonial government, management and government against union.

"We can still keep this going," he urged the union president. "We can fight the management and the government."

"They're bringing in strikebreakers, Tom," the president said tiredly. "There's too many people on Sagittaron that could use the money. It's over."

"It's not over," Tom said angrily. "It doesn't have to be."

"It is."

And just like that, it was. Not with gunfire, not with violence and death and fighting against incredible odds, but with a whimper and sigh.

***

"It's not right," Tom said, stalking the length of John and Molly's living room and back again. "Molly, it's not right."

"I know it's not, Tom. But you can't force people into action."

"I shouldn't have to! Can't they see? Don't they have eyes? How can they live under this rule without complaint? The Colonial government is not treating Sagittarons as human, Molly!"

"Tom, you know I agree with you, but would you please keep your voice down? John is putting Louis to bed."

He rolled his eyes but lowered his voice. "There's got to be something we can do- something that can rouse the populace, to make them understand." Molly was silent. Tom spun on his heel to face her. "Well?"

"I don't know what you want me to say, Tom," Molly said, shrugging wearily. "I don't have any magic solution for you."

"I don't expect you to." The words tasted bitter in his mouth, and he realized that he'd hoped that maybe she did.

Molly shrugged again. "The stakes weren't high enough."

"They weren't high enough? Molly, you've seen what's happening! You know where this road is going. Longer work hours, lower wages, and troops stationed at the mine for 'protection.' You know curfew is just around the corner, and after that it becomes a police state- a frakking occupation!"

"But it's not an occupation yet." Molly overrode him. "People aren't ready to take the kind of risks you're asking."

"But if they don't-"

"They won't. I know what you're saying, but what you don't understand is the risks people aren't willing to take. It's one thing for you. It's different when there's more to be lost."

Tom's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that people aren't willing to risk the little they've got, not when that's a sure thing. Not when there are others depending on them."

"So when children enter the picture, justice can be forgotten?" Tom asked, anger sharpening his voice.

Molly looked just as angry. "No. But different means have to be taken. If John and I were both tossed in jail, what would happen to Louis?"

"He'd stay with me until you got out," Tom said immediately.

"Right. Like you wouldn't be in there with us. But what about those families that don't have someone? What about the Colonial government taking out reprisals on children who have never done a thing?" Molly's eyes were steely.

"Are you saying that-"

"I'm not saying _anything_ ," Molly cut him off angrily. "Don't you make this about me. But you wanted an answer, and I'm giving you one. People aren't willing to take more drastic measures because they still have too much to lose. Until the day that the government lays waste to Sagittaron, that will _always_ be the problem. Your revolution isn't happening any time soon, Tom. You're going to have to find another way."

"I will, then," Tom told her. "I swear to the Gods, I will find a way."

***

Anger. Frustration. Fear. Fury. They built inside Tom, winding into a tight ball of rage.

As he predicted, the soldiers stationed at the mine imposed curfew. Then there were messages sent to homes, demanding that people work shifts they weren't scheduled for. At some point the government took control of the town's food supply, in order to better distribute the food to where it was needed. Ration tickets and black markets became a way of life, and the shackles tightened around their wrists a little more with each passing year.

And yet, there was nothing that he could do. But he swore that someday soon there was going to be a reckoning, and he was going to change the world forever.  
\---  
***

"Hey, Louis." Tom spotted his nine-year old nephew sitting on the front porch, reading a book. "How are you?"

Louis looked up and shrugged. Tom was used to the silence from the boy for the first few minutes- it took Louis time to warm up to people. Shy, his parents said. Wary was what Tom thought. The kid had a watchful look in his eye that made him seem older than his age. Today, Tom noticed, he had a black eye. "What's this?"

Louis shrugged again. "Got into an argument at school."

"Really? Good for you."

"I'm not supposed to fight," Louis corrected him sternly. 

Tom ignored that. "So? What was it about?"

Louis shrugged and looked away, uncomfortable. "Computers."

"Haven't they given that up yet?" That was one thing Tom just did not get. The Sagittaron resistance to technology…granted, he'd lived though the Cylon War. He'd _seen_ them. But at the same time, there was a world of difference between a computer and a Cylon. But apparently others didn't see it that way. "Did you put him straight?" Louis nodded, and Tom ruffled his hair. "Good for you. You're not in trouble with your parents, are you?"

"No. I thought I'd be, but Dad just said he was glad I stood up for myself."

"Good." Tom grinned. "Say, where is your dad, anyway? I've got something to talk to him about."

"He and Mom are in the kitchen." Louis jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the relevant direction.

"Okay. Hey, listen, stay strong, okay, kiddo?" He ruffled the kid's hair one more time then headed inside. 

John and Molly were seated at the table, heads bent together as they were deep in conversation. Tom caught snatches of talk about school and teachers. He cleared his throat, and Molly's head snapped up. 

"Oh, Tom. Come on in."

"Thanks. Saw the kid out on the front porch. That's one hell of a shiner he's got."

Molly frowned. "I know. I talked to his teachers, but they say Louis started it." She sighed. "Because he's such a violent kid. I swear, that kid barely speaks up even when you ask him to. You'd think they'd see that he was provoked."

"They calling him toaster lover again?" Tom asked sympathetically.

"Something like that. So what brings you here?" Molly asked, clearly changing the subject. Tom let her, because the truth is that he wasn't here to talk about Louis. He had something far more important in mind.

"This," he said, dropping some leaflets across the table.

John leaned forward and picked one up, and like Tom had thought, there was a spark there in his eyes. Molly read hers more carefully. "The S.F.M.?"

"Sagittaron Freedom Movement," Tom said. "It's just getting started."

Molly continued to read, and as she did the corners of her mouth turned up, and then she started to giggle. "They aren't very subtle, are they? All this talk about _doing more_ and _moving forward_ and progress…."

"It's subtle enough," Tom said, sitting down. "But I've talked to some people. It's not just some discussion group or prayer circle. This is something more. This is people _doing things._ "

"This is a resistance group," John said, turning the paper over. "Isn't it?"

"That's exactly what it is. Do you know what they're planning on doing?" Tom asked, leaning forward. "They're planning on shutting down a section of the mine."

"How?" Molly asked.

"How do you think?" Tom asked. "We're going in late at night. It shouldn't be too hard. It will shut down production for weeks. But the beauty of it is that they can still use the workers to dig it out again, so the people don't lose their income. So. Are you guys in?"

"I am." John's answer was immediate. He clutched the paper so hard his knuckles turned white.

Molly stared at her husband for a long time, silent. Then she shook her head. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because it's me or John, Tom," Molly said. "One of us can get involved. The other has to stay out of it, for Louis's sake. I'm fine with it being John. But it can't be both of us."

"Molly-"

They argued about it late into the night, but in the end, Molly refused to budge, and John took her side. Tom was disappointed. He had to admit he'd had visions of it being like it used to be, with the three of them working together. But this wasn't like it had been- there was more to lose. And when Tom peeked in Louis's room before he left that night and saw the kid asleep with a computer manual open face-down on his chest, he had to admit that Molly might just have a point. At least for a while, until Louis was old enough to join them for himself.

***

To Tom's disappointment, others were chosen to set the explosives at the mine. "It's best if it's people not at the mine," the leader said, her face set in a grim line. "That way the government has less cause to take it out on the workers."

Tom saw the logic of that, but he wanted to be in there, striking a blow. And when the project went off and was a success, he couldn't help the stab of jealousy that he hadn't had a hand in it.

"Be patient," John counseled. "Your time will come."

It would. Tom knew that John was right, and the SFM was where he needed to be. He just wished his time would hurry up.

***

There were jobs that he and John were put on. Small jobs that didn't do much or make much of a statement. Tom did them, paying his dues and putting in his time. For two years of careful work, until finally the day came.

Bill S-472-36. It had come suddenly, sweeping in and passing through the legislative channels before the public got word of it, pushed to the highest levels and passed into law. The wording seemed innocuous to most people, but when you read it, it was clear. This was a bill that, in the interests of protecting the people and the military stationed on Sagittaron, could allow any citizen guilty of suspicious activity to be detained. There was more, but essentially, it took away the right to a speedy trial based on extremely nebulous evidence. The bill was pushed through by a Caprican politician, a man named Joseph Lindenshaw.

It was a travesty, yes, but it was a chance that Tom had waited for, ever since joining the SFM three years ago. It was a chance to step things up, to make things more personal, to make the consequences of mistreating Sagittaron more dire- to make their voices heard. Tom was ready for this.

In truth, he'd been ready for this all his life.

***

"You're clear."

John's voice was low but unwavering. Tom ducked down and slid under Lindenshaw's car, working quickly. He'd done this before, in mock-ups and on jalopies, but this time felt different. 

The bomb was attached magnetically. Tom found the right spot and put it on, checking to make sure the tilt fuse was still in order. Everything looked good. He took a deep breath, said a quick prayer to Gods he wasn't sure existed, and started to slide out.

John tapped his foot.

Tom froze, sweat beading on his forehead. Someone was passing. Someone who might notice something suspicious. He waited, his breath sounding loud in his own ears, his pulse speeding up. 

Finally, two more taps on his shoe, and he slid out again. He glanced questioningly at John, but John shook his head. "Come on," he muttered, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his battered leather jacket. "Let's go." 

Brisk but not too brisk. Running made it clear you were up to no good. Tom walked next to John, head bent down against the wind, shoulder to shoulder. They should probably talk, but no idle conversation come to his mind. Instead, they fell into step in unison, walking away from the site, their footsteps the only sound between them.

Every nerve was singing, every sense was on edge. His shoulders were tight as he walked, and anticipation made his stomach twist in knots. They walked for blocks, out of the wealthier section and into the more run down areas of Edessa. Well out of the blast radius. 

John stopped at a newspaper box, staring at the headlines. Tom stopped with him. "Do you think-"

The rest of his words were cut off by the sound of the explosion. His head snapped up as he stared hungrily in the right direction, and then saw the black smoke curling into the sky. There were screams, both around them and in the distance, and then the sound of sirens. The corners of Tom's mouth curled into a smile.

It was done.

***

"There's something about it, isn't there?" Tom asked, still flushed with success hours later as they shared drinks in the privacy of John and Molly's kitchen. "Of _doing something_ , of making a difference."

"It won't make a difference," John said dully.

"Of course it will. It's not going to change everything, no. But it's a step."

John shrugged surrender. "I guess."

"What's wrong with you?" Tom asked. "It's a job well done. We did it, John."

"We killed someone, Tom."

Tom shrugged. "We knew that was what we had to do. The way things are going on Sagittaron, it's coming to that. We can't force change any other way. And besides, Lindenshaw wrote that law. It's not like he was an innocent."

"I know that. I just wish there was more of a payoff for his death."

Tom couldn't argue with that. But still, there was purpose. There was a plan. If nothing else, there was one less frakker in the worlds trying to take the rights of Sagittarons away. "Look, I know it seems futile. But it won't be. You _know_ that. I'm not going to lie and say that what we did today was easy. We both have to live with blood on our hands. But that's how things get done."

John nodded.

Tom leaned forward. "This is just the beginning, I know. But it's _a_ beginning. It's a start, a start towards that shining new world we can both see. And as we make our voices heard, they'll have to listen. And in time, when we're a force to be reckoned with, when we shout too loudly for them to shut us down, when Louis follows you-"

John turned to Tom, his mouth set in a firm line. "I don't want him to."

That took Tom by surprise and broke his rhythm. "What?"

John ran a hand through his hair. "You think _I_ want this life, Tom?"

"But you… you always said…." John believed in it. Tom knew he did.

"I believe everything I say, Tom. That's why I _do_ live this life. But do you really think this is the life I want? Fighting all the time, striving just to be seen as human, living under the boot of the Colonial government, fire hoses and setting off bombs? Prison time? Do you think this is happiness?"

"We're fighting, John," Tom said, the familiar fire making his blood boil. "There's no time for happiness."

"Yes. You and Molly and I have to fight that war, and I want us to win, so that when Louis is an adult he's able to live the life he wants, without all this." John gestured around. "I don't want my son to be a freedom fighter, Tom. I want him to live in freedom."

Tom closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them, John was watching him. "Guess we'd better work faster then," Tom said, not sure why there was a lump in his throat.

"Yeah. Guess we'd better."

***

The thought that he'd killed a man stayed with him. It would bother him to an extent, but then Tom would remember what this man had done. He'd been responsible for a bill that would allow Sagittarons under suspicion to be denied their rights to a trial. That bill- that _law_ \- could affect thousands of innocent people. 

When he remembered that, the killing didn't bother him at all.

***

"Tom? Can you stay with Louis for a few days?"

"Sure. What's going on, Molly?"

"I have a trip I need to take, and John's coming with me. I'll only be gone for a couple of nights, but Louis is too young to be left alone."

"He's fourteen. On Tauron that makes him a man."

"And in a mother's eyes, he's still a kid."

Tom wouldn't admit it, but he was looking forward to spending a few days with his nephew. He was becoming increasingly aware that children weren't likely to figure into his life. Women, yes, but children, no. As much as he hated to admit it, Molly was right- once children entered the picture, you had to be more careful. You had too much to lose. Tom knew his life lay elsewhere and that he couldn't lose focus on the freedom of his world, and that meant sacrifices on his part. But that didn't mean he didn't wish it could be different. 

Louis had grown into a gangly, awkward teenager. Too skinny, with big brown eyes and ridiculous cowlicks in his hair. He was reading when Tom arrived. "You ever do anything else?" Tom teased him.

Louis flicked a brief smile at Tom and then went back to his book. Tom grinned and set out his own work at the kitchen table. A comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by Louis turning pages and the scratch of Tom's pen on paper.

After a long while, Louis got up off the couch and opened the refrigerator. Tom heard him moving around, but was too engrossed on putting words to paper to pay any attention until a plate was set down beside him. He glanced over to see a sandwich, and when he looked up, Louis was sitting across the table, eating one of his own.

"Thanks."

"No problem. What are you working on?"

Tom sat up straight, stretching the muscles in his shoulders. "I'm working on a speech for the next union meeting."

"Oh. Is there going to be another strike at the mines?"

"No." Tom sighed. "That's not going to happen." 

"That's good, isn't it? People get to keep their jobs."

"I guess from that perspective. But it's caving into the Colonial government, allowing them to treat us as slaves. We can't rely on the government to come to their senses and start treating us as equal citizens."

"That's what Dad says."

"And he's right." Tom grinned. His grin faded. "But it still feels like prostitution, of a sort."

"Then why do you do it?" Louis asked, resting his hand on his chin. "If the union is useless, why do it at all?"

"It's not useless. It just feels like we get nothing done."

"Exactly."

Tom sighed. "To be honest, some days I do want to chuck the whole thing. All this speech making and demonstrating and protesting and letter writing… what does it do? It should work. We should be able to change people's minds with words alone. Reason should be the strongest tool we need. But people have a funny way of not seeing reason- they only see their own immediate situation. Someday, I will make them see. But when I do, I have to have a voice already. People need to know who I am, so my words carry weight."

"My teacher talked about you in Current Affairs," Louis said around a mouthful of sandwich. "When we were talking about labor unions."

"Exactly." Tom smiled. "So that's why I do it. So you do have Current Affairs in school. Do they cover much in your classes, or is it still 'the Colonial government is all' brainwashing?"

Louis smirked. "What do you think?"

Tom's grin widened. Not because of the travesty that was Sagittaron education, but because _of course_ this kid would see the truth. After all, he was family. "What are you going to do when you're done school?" Tom asked him. "Do you have plans?"

"I want to go to university," Louis admitted. "I'd like to become an engineer. But that's not going to happen."

"Why not?"

"Uncle Tom, have you _seen_ the Sagittaron engineering programs? They're a joke."

"And off-world is too expensive."

Louis nodded. "Mom's looking into scholarship programs for me, but they're hard to get, even with my grades. And did you hear about what happened at Omega University?"

Tom winced. A Sagittaron student had been the butt of an incredibly cruel joke, and the fallout had been terrible. Tom was surprised it made the news, but it was done in such a cautionary way that he soon understood. Sagittarons should stay with Sagittarons, out of the way and where they belonged. 

"Yeah." Louis slumped. "So it looks like I'm stuck here."  
And that, right there, reminded Tom of everything he was fighting for.

***

"How'd everything go?" Molly asked when she and John returned.

"Fine. Piece of cake, really." Tom shrugged. "Louis sure loves that computer, though."

"I know." Molly smiled fondly. "He's taken it apart and put it back together at least three times, and I don't understand what all he does with the programming, but it's like listening to him speak another language."

"It's about the only time he gets excited about anything." That reminded Tom of something that had nagged him a little this week. "Kid doesn't get out much with friends, though." Molly's shoulders slumped and John frowned. "What?"

"Louis doesn't really have many friends," Molly said. "It's not that he's a bad kid, but he's just…"

"Different," John finished for her. "And the kids know it."

Tom winced. "There's got to be at least a couple with their heads screwed on right, that don't think he's about to build a Cylon just because he likes computers."

"You would think that." Molly sounded bitter now. "He has a hard time at school, Tom. You'd think that Sagittarons would know better how to treat people, how to be less judgmental, but kids are cruel. He's had to clean rude words off his locker, he gets pushed around, he's had his books defaced or stolen… and that's only what he tells us." She shook her head. "Honestly, if we could get the visas, we'd leave Sagittaron for good."

A little bit of panic rose up in Tom, but he quashed it down. Was it terrible of him that there was relief there, that John and Molly couldn't up and leave? He hated the conditions here, he understood their point, but leaving would be giving in. 

"Anyway, thanks for watching Louis," Molly was saying. "I hate to do this, but I'm going to go bed. I'll see you later." She dropped a kiss on Tom's cheek and then John's lips and then drifted away.

"Is she okay?" Tom asked John.

"She's tired," John said. There were shadows under his eyes, too, and he seemed quiet. But instead of volunteering any information, he stretched and said, "There's an SFM meeting tomorrow night, right?"

"There is."

"Good. Stop by at 7:30 and we'll head on over together?"

"Sounds good." Tom stood up. "We'll go out and save the world together, all right?" John smiled tiredly, and Tom patted him on the shoulder. "It will be okay. I'll see you tomorrow."

He was halfway home when it finally occurred to him he had no idea where Molly and John had gone. Probably just a weekend away, he decided. If they wanted to know, they would tell him. He dismissed the thought and continued on home, mind full of plans for the next night.

***

"Tonight we have with us Linda Carlisle from the Sagittaron Trade Ministry, Chris Pivens from the _Sagittaron Economist_ , and Tom Zarek, union representative at the Edessa Mine."

_Local bombing, SFM involvement suspected._

"… _As the election heats up, citizens express concern about the possible involvement of the Sagittaron Freedom Movement, or SFM. The SFM has accused the Colonial government of ballot tampering, and has threatened to take action at certain precincts. Citizens are concerned that said action may be violent in nature…_ "

_Strike at Edessa Mine. Interview with Tom Zarek, Union President._

"Mr. Zarek, over the years you've climbed the ladder in the Miner's Union at Edessa to chapter president, and one of the leading contenders for President of the entire union this next election. Have you ever running for office outside the labor arena?"

_SFM bombing leaves two military dead, seventeen wounded._

"Mr. Zarek, how do you respond to accusations that you are involved with the SFM? Either that you've given them financial support, or that you are actually an active member?"

_Ballot for Edessa Representative to the Sagittaron Quorum:_

_Clarissa Donehev_  
Kunal Turgay  
Thomas Zarek 

The pages of newspapers and the interviews on television reflected the rise of Tom Zarek, as a name that stood for Sagittaron freedom and rights. A champion of labor, a man with power, and more and more a force to be reckoned with. A potentially dangerous man, either politically or personally.

"The winning candidate, Clarissa Donehev, has the backing of the Colonial government…."

"Any suspected involvement with the SFM can lead to immediate search and seizure, as well as detainment."

"Under Article 5, section 621, all Sagittaron citizens must have travel visas approved by the following agencies. Fees are shown in Table 5-21."

And yet, despite his power and his work, his voice went unheeded, lost in the goals of the Colonial government as they tightened their chokehold on a Colony that very few people wanted to defend.

***

John and Molly's house was as familiar as his own, so when Tom showed up one cold October night, he knew something was wrong. Molly and Louis were no where to be seen, but John was slumped at the table.

"What's wrong?" Tom asked, pouring them each a drink and sitting across from his brother-in-law. "Is everything okay?"

"No. Everything's not okay." John rubbed his face. He pushed a paper across the table to Tom. "Have you seen this?"

It was an article about how the health benefits of government employees were being slashed. Tom pushed it away. "I'd heard it was happening. How badly is it affecting you?"

"Extremely badly. We can't afford insurance anymore."

Tom winced. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know." John wiped at his cheeks. That made Tom sit up. 

"Is something else wrong? It's not just insurance, is it?"

"It is the insurance. Molly's cancer is back."

Tom nearly fell out of his chair. "Molly has cancer?"

John's mouth fell open, then he moaned. "I wasn't supposed to tell you. Frak, Tom, forget I said that. No one knows."

"No one knows."

"Even Louis doesn't know."

"How the frak do you hide it from your own kid?"

John sighed, looking miserable. "Because it wasn't too bad the first time around. She did chemotherapy and radiation in outpatient treatments, and while it wore her out, she didn't lose her hair or anything. We kept it quiet because you _know_ how Sagittarons react to people seeking medical treatment."

_Heretics._ Tom remembered the word scrawled in red across the front of the house, over a relatively minor issue of Molly seeking help for a short-term condition. He nodded tightly, still stunned to the core over the revelation.

"We thought it wouldn't matter," John continued. "She responded to the treatments the first time, and she's been in remission for two and a half years now. But she went to the doctor this week and it's back."

"Frak."

"And without insurance, what can we do?"

"Have you told Louis?" Tom asked, because it was the only question he could think right now.

"No. Louis has enough other problems right now."

"The college thing?"

John shook his head. "Louis decided to actually tell us that he's gay last night."

"Oh." That was news to Tom, but the way John phrased it made it sound like it wasn't news to him. "Is that a problem?"

"For me and Molly? No. You know us better than that," John scoffed defensively. "For Louis? Yeah. It's going to be a problem."

Because Louis was already practically an outcast for his love of science and technology. As soon as the kids got word of this… Tom shook his head,

"Found this in the mailbox," John said, handing it to Tom. Tom opened it, and the words scrawled on the page made his blood turn cold with fear and boil with fury at the same time. "Louis hasn't seen it. He's not going to. My kid doesn't need death threats."

"Did you show the police?"

John snorted. "You know the police will do nothing." 

"Can we get you off Sagittaron?" Tom asked. He despised the idea, but it might be their best hope. 

"It would cost ten times what we've got saved, and that counts Louis's college money."

Tom thought back to his savings, and realized he wasn't going to be able to add much. "We can try to raise some money," he said. "We can talk to the SFM."

"I'm willing to try anything right now." John cradled his head in his hands. "My wife is being murdered by the Colonial government and my son by the Sagittaron people, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. Tom, I don't know what to do to help my family."

Tom had never expected to see John break, but there at the table that night, he did.

***

It would have been nice to say that there was some big moment, Tom reflected much later. That it wasn't just the reduction of government employee benefits that triggered what happened next, or a death threat from one stupid kid. Because then what happened next would be logical, proportional, easily explained.

Of course, it _could_ be explained. Tom would spend the next twenty years of his life endeavoring to do just that, to point out the flaws inherent in the system, to try to get people to correct them. But it was that night that put the next events in motion, and it was that night that changed four lives forever. 

***

November fourth. Tom climbed the steps of his sister's porch for the last time. The house was the same, the worn out carpet, the faded furniture. The shoes by the front door- a worn, polished pair of men's shoes, a pair of brown leather pumps, and a teenage boy's sneakers, dirty and missing a lace. Tom stared at the three pairs of shoes for a long time with the significance of a moment that shouldn't be significant, then made his way inside.

Louis was sprawled on the couch, nose buried in a math book. Tom ruffled his hair in greeting, smiling down at the kid. He thought about the life John wanted for Louis, the freedom and opportunity just to _live_ without fear, to be able to focus on what he wanted to do, not what he had to do. He hoped John's prayers would be answered.

"Louis." Molly emerged from the kitchen. "Go do your homework in your room, please." He tone brooked no argument. Louis rolled his eyes like any teenager would, but obeyed.

"Are you sure that this is what you want to do?" Tom asked John as the three of them sat at the table, sorting through papers and plans. "There could still be another way."

"This is what I'm going to do," John said firmly. "There is no other way." 

Molly reached out and took John's hand in hers. Her face was pale, but she was resolved. Tom could see the strength in her eyes. She knew what she was doing, what the consequences of this revolution would be.

"It could change more than we think," John said lamely. "Maybe not the world, but maybe more than just…."

Tom furrowed his brow. "Than just what?"

John stared at the table, and it was Molly who took a breath and answered. "Tom. We know that this is not going to change Sagittaron. One explosion? One bombed building? It won't be enough."

"It will be a start."

"We've been starting for the past twenty years. We've never gotten past the start."

"Then why are you doing this?" Tom asked John. "If you don't think it's going to work, why give your life away?"

"'The parents must die before the children can come into their own'," John quoted. "There's some truth to that. Louis _needs_ to leave Sagittaron, Tom. But we can't get all three of us off, and as long as Molly and I are alive, he won't go."

"You know I don't have that much longer, Tom," Molly said, her hand tightening around John's. "Louis won't leave as long as we're here, and he'll live to regret it."

There were arguments he could have made. Disown him. Drive him out, make amends later. Find another way. Steal the money if they had to. But the time for arguments was over, and Tom couldn't deny his sister and brother-in-law this change to make the one decision left to them, and to make it of their own free will.

***

The clock was striking midnight when Tom and John left the house together, an odd symbolism that made both of them smile wryly. They walked together in silence, like they had done before, shoulder to shoulder, falling in step.

***

John got them into the building, the one he'd been working in the past twenty years. They had the explosives in their packs, and it was a small matter to rig them up. Tom's skin was tingling as he hooked wires and attached pieces. Their flashlights winked back and forth to each other as they worked in silence, a team ready to go. 

They were done in forty-five minutes.

***

"Do you want to go home?" Tom asked as they left the building, mission accomplished.

"No." John shook his head. "If I walk into that house and see them again, I won't be able to walk back out."

"You don't have to. We've got the remote trigger."

"You know that's not what I want."

"I know. It's what I want." 

John smiled grimly. "Come on. Let's go watch the sun rise, so I can pretend it's rising over a new world." He slung his arm around Tom's shoulder, and Tom went along in silence.

***

"You're making the speech after, right?" John asked as they sat on a hillside in the grim darkness that came before dawn. "You're taking credit for this?"

"Taking credit. This is your brainchild." Tom couldn't contain the note of envy.

John heard it and smiled. "Yours too. We did this together. Like Moses and Aaron from the Scrolls. Brothers-in-law, leading their people to freedom."

"Something like that." Tom sat back, leaning on his hands and gazing at the dark horizon. "It will change the world a little."

"It will make them more aware of the SFM. It will make them more aware of _you._ " John chuckled. "By the way, I don't think I've said thank you."

"For what?"

"We both know you're serving time after this."

"We do." Tom closed his eyes. "It will be worth it. Because I know you don't believe it, but this time, it really is starting. This is what I've waited and worked my entire life to do."

"I know. Just… Tom? Can you do me one favor?"

"What's that?"

John stared straight ahead as he asked. "Keep my name out of it. Don't name me as a bomber. If I was alive, it would be one thing. But I'll be dead, and this will be big. I don't want the name 'Hoshi' to have that sort of taint on it. Not as long as Louis carries it."

Tom nodded. "I can do that."

"Thank you. I think the sun might be starting to rise. Just a couple more hours before it all ends."

"Just a couple more hours before it all begins."

***  
The bombs had been detonated by a trigger under John's desk. He did it early in the morning, hoping to minimize casualties, but the explosion was huge and the building was demolished. Tom had no idea how many people had died in their attack.

And yet, he couldn't bring himself to care. Because destroying empty targets, empty mines, marching in protests, a victim here or two there… that didn't make an entire government sit up and think about change. The death of a building's worth of people- that did. 

A beginning of a new world, born through fire and blood and tears. Sacrifices would be made- Tom knew that better than anyone as he looked at his brother's fiery grave- but they would be what changed everything. 

They found Tom standing with the remote trigger on the hillside, laughing with release. He didn't resist at all when they brought him in.

***

Tom thought he had been prepared for prison. The solitude, the work, the loneliness… those were things he could endure. He'd misjudged how difficult navigating prison politics would be, but he'd known that would happen. What he hadn't been prepared for was the grief. John haunted him, and it was a grief that he could not show in front of others. He had to save it for stolen moments in the bathroom stall, late at night in his cell, or in solitary as the guards began the process of trying to break him. 

It was over a month before he saw Molly. She had lost weight since he'd seen her last, and her hair was lackluster. But her smile was still warm when she saw him, and he was able to greet her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek under the watchful eye of the guard. That hug and kiss had cost him dearly in the preceding weeks.

"How are you holding up, Tom?" she asked, looking around and shuddering.

"All right," Tom lied. He'd already resolved he would not be telling Molly a word. "What about you?"

She shrugged. "Hanging in there. The faith healers have me on chamalla." She rolled her eyes. "Although that's some good shit, I'll tell you."

They laughed together, and for a moment it felt like home.

"What about Louis?" Tom asked. "Did he-"

"It's taken care of." Peace flooded Molly's expression. "He leaves a month after he graduates high school."

"Where's he going?" Tom was hoping to hear Gemenon or Caprica, but anywhere would do. Anywhere that wasn't Sagittaron, so that John's death wasn't in vain. "What college?"

"He's not going to college, Tom. Not right away." Molly's face changed. "He called a recruiter."

It really did take Tom a minute to understand. "Like a head-hunter? A job recruiter."

"No." Molly closed her eyes. "A military recruiter."

The roar started in Tom's ears before he fully processed the words. His head began to swim and his stomach detached. Memories appeared before his eyes: Louis as a baby, fitting into his hands, as a toddler, smiling up at him. Louis as a child, his hand in Tom's trustingly, listening to everything Tom said. Louis as a teenager, putting a sandwich beside his uncle and listening to his words, learning, growing into a man. The child he had loved as if he had been his own- the closest Tom would ever get to having a son of his own.

"Tom?" Molly's voice sounded far away. "Tom, are you okay?"

"The military." The words were bitter on Tom's tongue. "That's what John gave his life for, so Louis could go into the _military?_ "

"Keep your voice down." Molly glanced at the guards. "You haven't had your trial yet."

"Frak my trial. The military. The arm that the Colonial government uses to oppress us, to deny us our rights. The people that-"

"The people that defended us in the Cylon War," Molly interrupted, and if Tom hadn't been caught so off-guard he would have recognized the sound of danger in her voice. 

"It doesn't matter. There are no Cylons now. He joined… he joined…." Tom's hands were shaking and the rage was building, twisting his stomach and bringing hot bile to the back of his throat. "He's a traitor. He's a traitor to everything his father stood for."

Molly drew back. "This was what his father wanted," she said, her words cracking with the severity of a whip. 

"What he wanted? For his son to join these frakking tyrants? To make other's lives miserable?"

"For his son to get off this godsforsaken rock and have a chance at having a life. There was only one way off, Tom, and the Colonial Fleet was it. Louis is taking it."

"How can he not _see_ -"

"Because it's his decision. His, mine, and John's. He's not a foot soldier in your war, Tom, or your chosen successor. He's a kid who wants a life of science and technology and the chance to love who he's made to love. That's all."

Tom shook his head angrily. "I can't believe you. I can't believe you did this. That you would betray the cause like this-"

"When it comes to Louis, I will sacrifice anything."

They glared at each other, furious.

"You might as well know," Molly said, biting her words off, "I don't think Louis is coming to visit you. He knows you had a hand in his father's death."

"Good." Tom's words were equally edged. "I don't want to see him. Or you."

In that one moment, he felt the heat of the explosion on his face again, and the flames danced in front of his eyes. But instead of the joy there was anguish, and instead of triumph he felt crushed by defeat. After all they'd done, after everything that had been sacrificed, it came to this. John had died and Tom had gone to jail not so Louis would have a life of freedom, but so that he could be a good little robot, enslaved to the Colonies and enslaving others. 

He didn't regret what he'd done. There was too much good that could come from it, too much potential. And that was what he had to focus on, what happened in the future. This explosion had torn his family apart, but it didn't have to mean the end of everything for Tom. It could still be the beginning.

"Go," he told Molly, but she was already getting to her feet and gesturing to the guards. She swept out without a backward glance, and before she was gone, he did the same. After all, he had his own survival to think about.

***

The grief and sense of betrayal softened a little, and there were nights Tom thought of John, Molly and Louis with fondness. But those nights hurt, so he kept them at bay.

Nine months later, he got word that Molly had asked to see him. Despite his fury, he accepted the visit. Not because he'd forgiven her, but because he knew what the visit meant. Molly was dying.

It was clear as soon as he saw her face. She had lost so much weight that she was skeletal, and her eyes were sunken holes in her head. She had a hard time breathing and movement clearly hurt, and Tom knew his sister was a dead woman walking.

She stayed for fifteen minutes, and they talked about their childhood and their parents. "That's one comfort I have," Molly told Tom. "Mom and Dad, they're waiting for me on the other side."

"I hope so," Tom said. _John, too._

"They are. Death gives you a sort of clarity." Molly hesitated, then put a hand over Tom's. "I'm still not sorry, Tom. I did what I had to do, and I don't regret it, not one bit. But I want you to know that I love you."

It was her gift to him, and to herself. Words that he could answer. He turned his hand over under hers and laced their fingers together and gave a brief squeeze. "I love you, too."

It was the last time he ever saw his sister, that tying up of the ends. He didn't know if he'd ever forgiven her, or if she'd forgiven him, but at least they'd gotten to say what they wanted to say. And years later, when Tom finished his book, he could write the dedication to the other person he'd lost as well.

_For John, who gave everything for what he believed in._

But twenty years later, when Tom was finally up for parole, he still had not spoken to or forgiven Louis. Then the Cylons attacked, and it didn't matter anymore, because there would never be a chance for those ends to be tied, and Tom had to find his peace in that fact. He thought he did.

***

"This is _Pegasus_."

"This is Tom Zarek. Put me through to Commander Fisk."

Silence.

"Hello? Is the connection broken? Hello?"

"I'm sorry. Who did you say this was?"

Tom sighed. There was one on every ship. "Tom Zarek. The Sagittaron representative to the Quorum of Twelve."

"I know who you are." The man's voice was stiff. "I just wasn't expecting… I'll put you through, Mr. Zarek."

Well, at least he did that. The connection was established and Tom had to focus on Jack, so he pushed the conversation from his mind. But it came back to haunt him later.

"Who was the communications officer on duty?" Jack repeated as they were sharing a drink together. "Oh, Gods, I don't know. I think it was Hoshi at the time."

"Louis Hoshi?"

Jack's brow furrowed in thought. "Yeah. I think that's the right name. Sagittaron name, isn't it?"

"Yes," Tom said, his face blank. "It is."

***

_He's alive. He's alive. What are the odds…?_ Louis was alive.

Tom wondered what he remembered. Did he remember that day so long ago when he'd made Tom a sandwich, when they'd stayed together? When Molly had been diagnosed with cancer the first time, Tom had realized years later. Did Louis remember how it felt to hug him, that once upon a time they'd been close, that Tom's presence had been so constant in their house that he didn't even knock when he came in the door?

Maybe. But _Pegasus_ had been in the Fleet for a while now, and Tom's name was well known. Louis had known that Tom was here, and hadn't come looking for him. Tom would bet that Louis might remember those things, but he also remembered a night that his father had said goodbye to him, and the morning that he'd died. Seventeen was too young to lose a father- Tom knew that well. Louis remembered, and that was exactly what made his voice falter on the wireless and kept him from seeking out Tom, even though Tom would have been incredibly easy to find.

He thought about finding Louis. After all, he knew exactly where the kid was. But if Louis didn't want to see him… Tom had good connections with the _Pegasus_ crew, but not that good. And if Louis was one of them, they could be destroyed in an instant. And then there was Adama. Adama with his hatred of Tom, for any word Tom spoke and everything Tom stood for. If Adama knew that Louis was related to Tom, it would affect what career he had left.

Tom had taken Louis's father. He felt no guilt for that- it had been John's decision and the right one. The least he could do was the leave the little the kid had left, especially in times like these. He waited for Louis to come to him.

***

For three years, Louis didn't come anywhere near Tom, and Tom kept his distance. After a while, it rarely crossed his mind. There were other things to worry about. But he did still check the casualty lists after every attack, and always breathed a sigh of relief when Louis's name wasn't on it. But Louis had chosen his side and his alliance, and he was Adama's man, through and through.

Tom had always known that he'd die for what he believed in. Truth be told, it was the way he wanted to go. That way his death would mean something. And the day came where his death was the result of one last chance at justice, one last revolution that had failed. 

He remembered Molly and John, and their calm acceptance of death. He knew that he would die like that, too, ready to face whatever lay on the other side. And now that he was standing here this close to death, he knew that Molly was right. They _were_ there, and he could feel it. In just a few hours, he'd be home. He just wished-

No. Wishing was for idealists. Wishing was for fools.

He was sitting on the cot with his eyes closed when the cell door opened. He opened his eyes, and for a second he thought he'd died already, and that John was there to great him. Then the blue uniform registered, and there wasn't any doubt about who the man in front of him was.

“Louis Hoshi. Gods if you aren’t the spitting image of your father.”

“Tom.” Louis stood there crossing his arms. “You seem to have a penchant for killing the people I love.”

“I didn’t kill him,” Tom replied, barely refraining from smiling. It seemed… almost nostalgic right now. “The circumstances of the world killed him. Interesting you waited until now to come see me.”

“Anyone in this fleet found out I was related to Tom Zarek, that would have been the end of my career. You know that.”

“That I do. Have a seat.” Tom motioned at the steel chair off in a corner of the cell. Louis sat down. He looked good, Tom thought. Taller and stronger than he'd ever been on Sagittaron, filled out to a grown man. Straight spine and proud stance, but no trace of a smile. John in appearance, but not personality.

“So what brings you here?" Tom asked, sitting back and putting his feet on the bed. "You could have waited for the execution and washed your hands of me forever. Why bother?”

“Felix didn’t want to see me.” 

“So you came to me instead? You wanted to take out your anger about the mutiny and I was the easiest target? Has the military brainwashed you into taking their side?” Of course they had. They'd done that a long time ago. 

“I’m not taking anyone’s side,” said Louis. “Cylons, no Cylons, I don’t care anymore. I just want to get on with life.”

Tom glared at him. “Sometimes there are times when you can’t just go on with life, you’ve got to take care of things.”

“And sometimes there are times when living is how you take care of things.” There was a long pause. “I wanted to see Felix because…because…"

“Oh,” said Tom, a look of realization washing over his face. “You’re _that_ Louis.” It was the first time in this conversation he'd felt out-maneuvered. Those were pieces he should have put together a long time ago.

“Yeah,” Louis sighed.

He loved Gaeta. And Gaeta had loved him- Tom had known that Felix was in love, he'd just never really cared enough to find out any more. But he'd informed Tom that the elusive "Louis" would be safe during the mutiny. Tom hadn't cared because Felix's boyfriend was a nobody and not anyone to be concerned about, but it had been bigger than he'd thought. And judging by the wounded look on Louis's face, he didn't understand any of that. Tom felt a stab of pity. At least with John, Louis had had a chance to say goodbye. He leaned forward from where he sat on the cot. 

“In prison, there used to be this thing we called ‘tying up the ends’. Whenever someone was diagnosed with a terminal illness, looked like they’d die in prison, they’d ask for a final phone call. Call someone they still had something they had to finish with: families of their victims, girlfriend they left alone on the outside, someone they had a feud with that they wanted to end. So they can be at peace with themselves before they die. That’s what Felix is doing. Tying up the ends of his life. He didn’t want you because he’s already made peace with you. That’s a compliment Louis, it’s not an insult.” Louis nodded, and Tom leaned back again. “I get the feeling that’s what you’re doing here too.”

“I’m not dying.”

“No. But I am. And you’re the only one, besides the Adama monarchy, who has any family left to settle your past with.”

“That was a long time ago." Louis's face was nowhere near as controlled as he wanted it to be. 

“And you’re still upset about it.” 

“I loved my father.”

“And he loved you. That’s why.”

“Why what?” Louis asked.

“Why he helped me blow up that building,” Tom answered. 

“My father was a revolutionary long before I was born," Louis said.

Four years. Four years they could have had, and they'd ignored each other. Tom had given himself all sorts of reasons for not approaching Louis, but as his nephew sat here with him now, Tom knew they'd all been lies. The truth was he had still been angry. Been angry that Louis had turned his back on Tom's beliefs, that he hadn't followed where Tom wanted him to go. That he'd joined the military, even though yes, it probably was the only way. Louis wasn't the only one who couldn't let go of the past, but he had a better reason. Tom could give him one last gift. 

“It wasn’t about Sagittaron," Tom explained gently. "It was for me, but not for him.” Louis raised a skeptical eyebrow. “We both knew one explosion wasn’t going to change Sagittaron. We’d spent too many years fighting to believe that sort of thing. But one explosion was enough to change you.”

“Wait,” said Louis, leaning forward in his chair. “Are you saying…?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. It worked, didn’t it?” Tom smiled.

“You son of a bitch!” Louis jerked towards his feet, his face flushed an ugly shade of red.

“It wasn’t my idea, Louis," Tom said. “Sure, I’m the one who gets all the credit for it, but it was never my idea to begin with.”

“And you expect me to forgive you for this?”

Tom crossed his arms and shook his head. “You’ve already forgiven me for it. You did a long time ago. You’re in the military, working as a computer expert. That tells me all I need to know. And I know you know what I’m telling you is true, so it’s not me you’re mad at now, is it?”

Louis stood up, fists clenched. Tom felt a little sorry for him. It was so much easier for Louis to be mad at Tom than it was for him to be mad at John. So much easier for Tom to be mad at Louis than it was for him to be mad at John and Molly. He closed his eyes as that sudden truth hit with the force of a blow across the face. _He_ was mad at John for sending his son on this path, for not coming up with another answer. 

“They’re a lot alike you know,” Tom said softly, just realizing it himself. “John and Felix. Willing to give everything for what they believe in.”

“Was it worth it?” asked Louis. “If all we’ve gotten is to here? When there’s nothing left worth living for?” 

“You’ll find something. You’re stronger than you think you are. Stronger than any of the rest of us.”

The words hit Louis strangely. He spun back around, and held up a hand to tell the guard to wait. “What did you say?”

Tom shrugged. “Blowing up a building, that’s easy. Dying is easy. To keep going when the rest of the world just tells you to give up, that’s hard. You were the kid who studied computer science on Sagittaron. You were the guy who used his father’s death as the opportunity to pursue your dream, not to stay home and mourn. There are times when living is the fight? Those aren’t the words of someone who’s looking to quit now. Don’t let looks fool you, this, my circumstances, is the easy out. This whole world has told us all to stop. You’re still going. That takes guts. More than I’ve ever had. If there’s any hope for this fleet yet, it’s you.”

Louis stared at him for a long moment, and in his eyes, Tom saw gratitude. Gratitude and something else, a look Tom hadn't seen from him in twenty four years. He smiled back.

“Thanks Uncle Tom,” Louis said, as he signaled the guard to come get him.

Tom closed his eyes, letting those two words wash over him one last time. “Your father’d be proud of you," he heard himself saying. And he would. John's dreams for Louis had always been different than Tom's own.

“I know.” He left the cell, but on the doorway, he turned and looked back. He smiled one last time, a smile that Tom remembered from years ago, when they'd loved each other. Tom smiled back.

It wasn't much, but a tying of the ends was enough.


End file.
